


A Simple Plan

by flippyspoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Lifeguard Billy, M/M, Pining, Romance, Scoops Steve, Soft summer Billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 17:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18197267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/pseuds/flippyspoon
Summary: Billy has a plan. Steve hanging out at the pool is definitely not a part of it.





	A Simple Plan

For Billy, it’s simple and he’s gotten used to it. He keeps his head down. He doesn’t bother Max. He doesn’t even bother anyone else. He does what his dad tells him to do as long as he’s still living at home, and he goes to work at the pool every day. He _likes_ working at the pool. At the pool, he’s a rockstar just like he was in high school. Except it’s even better now. Now he’s got some authority. He can whistle at the annoying rugrats and tell them what to do. Girls bring him soda and candy and even cigarettes for his breaks. Heather is super into him. He flirts just enough to keep her on the line. He doesn’t know how long he can keep that up though before she starts wondering why he hasn’t made a move, just like almost every other girl in Hawkins. There have been rumors about Billy. Every once in a while, it comes up. He had everyone convinced he was just super picky but that doesn’t always work. He tries to fuck some girl every once in a while to keep rumors at bay. He can still nearly murder someone with a look, but actually fighting is trickier after turning eighteen and that doesn’t really jibe with keeping his head down.

Keep your head down, save money, get the hell out of this stupid town when the time is right. That’s Billy’s plan. It doesn’t do much for him but he’s got his vice (besides smokes); his one stupid dream that nobody knows about. He keeps that dream to himself and it makes him just happy enough when he wakes up and it keeps him going all day. The dream is Steve Harrington. It’s just a dream and he knows it. It’s always been the little thing he keeps in his back pocket; his stupid messed up love for Steve Harrington. 

He goes to Scoops Ahoy for a cone or a soda just about as much as he can without causing suspicion, which is probably still way too much since he doesn’t even bother to flirt with Robin. Max was his excuse for a while but he couldn’t get her to go as his cover as often as he wanted and she started asking him why the hell he’d suddenly become so addicted to ice cream.

Whatever. It’s not like it’s illegal for him to hang out at Scoops. Steve hasn’t told him to fuck off either. He does seem vaguely baffled. He gets that insanely cute, confused Harrington look on his face that Billy’s gotten to know _real_ well after a full semester of three classes with Steve.

Steve’s friendly even. Billy’s messed up heart does a goddamn loop-de-loop every time Steve actually smiles when Billy talks to him. They’re friendly. Not more than that. Not _friends_. That’s fine. It’s better even. Billy doesn’t think he could handle getting much closer to Steve and keep going according to his plan.

So he keeps his dream of Steve Harrington in his back pocket. Dreams are just stupid wishes that never come true anyway. That’s what his dad always taught him.

That’s the plan and it’s working just fine. Billy has some okay times during the summer. He gets himself a cool tattoo because he’s eighteen now and why the hell not. When his dad sees it, he rolls his eyes and Billy’s been subjected to multiple lectures about how he’s a hooligan and there have been a few throwdowns, but Neil got used to it eventually, just like the earring and everything else because otherwise, Billy is doing what he’s told.

The one day early in August, Steve comes to the pool. 

Billy’s up in his chair, feeling a lot of eyes on him and enjoying it. He stretches and runs his hand through his hair. Vicky comes strolling by in her bikini and seems to have forgotten their ugly run in at a party back in June because she smiles and he gives her his charming grin and nods.

Then with absolutely no warning, Steve goddamn Harrington comes moseying outside in a tiny little pair of yellow swim trunks and those Ray Bans he loves and nothing else except for the towel in his hand.

This has never happened before. Steve has never come to the pool. Billy assumed it was because Steve has his own pool after all and even if Max and her little friends hang out there sometimes, it probably doesn’t have like a gallon of urine in it at any given time like Billy suspects the Hawkins Recreation Center public pool does.

The pool has been safe, as in Steve-free, and as much as Billy loves being anywhere near Steve Harrington, that was part of the plan too. This is _work_. He has to keep his shit together. The job isn’t exactly demanding. He’s stopped a few idiot kids from nearly murdering themselves from the high dive and he’s constantly bellowing down to the rowdy ones when there’s too much horseplay and the old people get annoyed and that’s about it, but it’s still work. He also really doesn’t trust any of these Midwestern hicks to know how to swim. He’s absolutely sure somebody’s going to drown at some point.

He doesn’t need Steve here. He doesn’t _want_ Steve here.

When he sees Steve in that tiny yellow pair of swim trunks, his heart gallops right out of his chest. He half imagines it diving into the pool. It’s a good thing he’s always wearing shades. He’s sure he’d give himself away otherwise. At Scoops, he’s never take by surprise like this, except those couple times some girl was coming to meet Steve but neither of those flings seemed to last. 

Steve stands on the stretch of pavement and stares out at the pool, looking conflicted. Then he looks up at Billy. He smiles and nods.

“Hey!” Steve says.

Billy swallows. He schools his features. He’s kept his shit locked down so far. No reason he can’t keep at it. The plan has been working very well so far.

“Hey, Harrington,” Billy says, yelling down at him. Steve comes closer. The asshole isn’t even Indiana pale anymore. He probably sunbathes out by his own pool when he gets the chance because he looks goddamn mouth watering and still lean and toned like he was back in the days of those blessed gym showers. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

“Seems like the place to be,” Steve says, shrugging.

Suddenly it occurs to Billy like a nail bat to the head that Steve is coming here to pick up girls.

Like _obviously_. Girls come here and they also wear tiny little swimsuits. Billy glances around and sees a few pairs of eyes shifting from him to Steve. There are no rumors about Steve. Billy gets the impression that Steve is as sure a thing as most any guy his age, maybe more so.

“How are you?” Steve says.

Billy’s pretty sure Steve Harrington has never once asked how he was before, even as they’ve gotten to be friendly or friendy-ish or something like it. 

Billy blinks down at him as if an alien has just landed and started speaking to him and says,”I’m...good.”

“Cool.” Steve scratches his stomach and Billy’s gaze drops to those gently curving little muscles. Steve’s got that sweetly long kind of torso that narrows just right. Billy’s imagined a million times just how Steve would move lying in bed under the attention of Billy’s tongue. If he thinks about that now _while_ looking at Steve in his tiny yellow swimsuit, he will certainly get a chub. He sticks that thought in his back pocket too. 

Steve licks his lips and looks up at him and looks away again. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Kay.” Billy says, and immediately winces. He feels so set back on his heels. 

Steve just walks away. It almost seemed like Steve wanted to keep talking. It never quite seems that way at Scoops. They’ve had some decent conversations but Steve’s never come off particularly enchanted or anything. That’s fine too. That’s part of the plan.

Steve lays down on his towel and a mess of people talk to him. Steve’s the belle of the ball at the Hawkins Recreation Center public pool. Steve looks polite if disinterested. He hangs out and talks for awhile and Billy just breathes in and out as some girl slathers Coppertone on his back. Eventually he swims for just about ten minutes. When he gets out, he’s soaking wet. He grabs his towel and comes over to talk to Billy again. 

They don’t talk about anything important. Billy’s barely aware of the conversation but Steve is playing close attention, looking right at Billy. Billy’s having trouble focusing on anything that’s not the slide of water drops down Steve Harrington’s chest and the way his wet hair curls under his ears. 

“So have you seen it?” Steve says.

“Huh?”

“ _The Man With One Red Shoe_?”

A movie. Yes, Steve was talking about a movie. There’s too much happening. Usually Billy’s fully concentrating on every funny or weird or unexpectedly thoughtful or totally dumbass thing Steve says so he can sift through it later like pawing through treasures while he’s sitting on his perch staring down at the pool full of hicks.

“No…” Billy says.

“I was thinking about catching it,” Steve says, shrugging. “Thursday night?”

“Oh.” He feels like he’s missing something. Steve looks like he’s waiting for Billy to _say_ something and Billy is completely lost, an unfamiliar feeling he does not enjoy. He half wants to insult Steve and tell him to fuck off because at least that’s familiar but he hasn’t done that in a long time and it tastes sour on his tongue now. “Let me know if it’s any good.”

“Yeah.” Steve face screws up. It’s cute. Billy looks away and chews on his thumbnail. “Well, I’ll see ya later, man.”

“Yeah, later,” Billy mutters.

After work that day, Billy can’t go to Scoops because he’s got to do a bunch of shit around the house before the old man blows a gasket, then he has to pick up Max from that girl Jane’s house and take her home and make dinner because Susan is working late. It’s just as well. Steve really threw him for a loop.

Steve works afternoons and evenings at Scoops for the most part. That works out usually because Billy gets off from the pool at three. The pool opens at nine and Billy gets to work at eight to clean and check the levels. At nine o’clock, Heather opens the gate and the front doors of the rec center and Billy climbs up on his perch.

Steve Harrington shows up about a half hour later. 

Billy feels like the universe is messing with him.

The only people who even swim early in the morning are the old folks. If Steve is coming to the pool to pick up chicks in bikinis there’s nobody for him to pick up except for eighty-year-old Mrs. Pearson who Billy suspects is actually wearing a bikini as she bobs in the shallow end. He’s not sure. He tried not to look.

Steve is wearing a different set of trunks this time. They’re green, but just as tiny. He makes conversation with Billy. He brings up that movie again. He asks Billy a bunch of questions about what movies he’s seen over the summer. It’s probably a normal conversation but Billy is dizzy. The sun is already blazing this morning and now he can’t decide if he likes the yellow or the green better on Steve and he said something funny so Steve is laughing as he leans on a wooden slat in Billy’s lifeguard chair and looks up at him like he’s some flirting girl. Billy thinks he’s getting sunstroke. 

Steve swims a few laps, chats with Billy for another ten minutes, and leaves.

After he gets off at the pool this time, Billy wants to go Scoops like he normally would, only now Steve is fucking with the plan. Steve is not staying in Billy’s back pocket. 

Billy buys himself a bandana at J.C. Penney’s which he thinks of as his totally valid reason for going to the mall, and just happens to stop at Scoops.

Billy’s wearing his after-work summer gear which is cut-offs and red Converse and a tank top that’s barely a shirt. He shifts from foot to foot but tries to look cool and inscrutable as he stands in the middle of the mall. What if Steve thinks he’s weird now? Showing up when Billy just saw him. On the other hand, he’s allowed to buy a goddamn ice cream cone in August, right? He considers browsing Walden Books and then huffs through his nose before striding determinedly to the food park.

“Hey!” Steve says when he sees Billy. He’s wearing his dopey Scoops outfit like usual, his little sailor hat sitting at jaunty angle atop his perfect hair. He’s grinning at Billy like they’re not just friendly-ish but _pals_ , best buds even. Maybe even more than that.

Billy feels it suddenly like a lightning bolt to his heart: Steve is all the way out of his back pocket.

He feels it but he doesn’t know it because dreams don’t come true. That’s for kids.

Steve is behind the counter and he leans forward and stretches out his arms as if offering up anything Billy could possible want. Which is _a lot_.

“Hey,” Billy says, scratching his elbow. They keep Scoops cold as hell which is nice coming in from the heat but he gets a chill in here in the scant amount of clothing he wears. He feels his nipples pebble up.

He licks his bottom lip, gaze flitting around. If he looks right at Steve, he might never look away again.

He should order something. That’s what he’s supposed to be here for.

“Your hair’s turning green,” Steve says. He’s still smiling as he nods at Billy. 

“Oh yeah...shit.” He runs a hand through his mop of curls. It’s been getting blonder but containing the effects of the pool that he doesn’t even swim in all that much is a trial and a half. He’s not about to wear a swim cap and he doesn’t always get a chance to so much as rinse off for a while after he’s in the pool. “Fuckin’ chlorine.”

“Just a little bit,” Steve says, shrugging.

Billy nods. Steve nods. Billy nods again. They stand there blinking at each other for what feels like, possibly, a _year_. This is new territory with Steve. Billy’s heart feels like it’s crawling up into his throat. He blames this all on Steve not staying in that pocket. He’s fucking everything up. But Billy can’t even call him on it.

Robin appears, or maybe she was there the whole time and Billy didn’t notice. She clears her throat and says to Steve, “Why don’t you ask him if he wants to order something?”

Billy’s fairly observant about the subtleties of human behavior. It’s a good skill to have when you want to mess with them. So he can’t possibly miss the fuschia color that now paints Steve’s face as he purses his lips and shoots Robin a dirty look.

“Yeah no, I know. Um, you want something?” Steve babbles. “Ice cream?”

“Um…” Billy looks down at the two rows of flavors under the glass. He sees all the little signs with the flavors typed on them. It all looks like gibberish suddenly. Like he can read the words but he’s so distracted by whatever the hell is going on, he forgets what they mean.

“Or you want a float?” Steve says. 

Billy orders rootbeer floats about half the time and now he nods. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Cool.”

Nothing gets any less awkward than that for the next week as Steve continues to come to the pool and refuse to stay in Billy’s back pocket.

 

Then one day, Steve almost drowns.

 

It’s all Tommy’s fault, in Billy’s book. It’s Steve’s fault too. Tommy’s been away up at his parent’s cabin with Carol but now he’s back. He gets to the pool before Steve. It’s afternoon this time. Billy knows it’s Steve’s day off. That means he can stay as long as he wants. When he shows up, Billy doesn’t know if he’s excited or dreading it. 

The three of them have a really weird conversation. There’s a sense after graduation that they’re all adults now and all that high school bullshit is forgotten. Billy has no idea where that feeling came from, but waking up the _day_ after he graduated he had three inescapable thoughts:

The first was the question of whether he’d see Steve that day, but that was every morning.

The second was a chilling spike of fear at the thought that he was an adult now and he felt as if somebody had kicked him out of an airplane.

The third thought was that every bit of shallow popularity he’d drunk up like beer from the keg and all the dethroning and politicking he’d cared so much about in high school was absolutely meaningless and had always been so. It was like waking up from having been brainwashed and he felt a keen sense of embarrassment about it, as if he’d been duped.

So when both Tommy and Steve show up at the pool, they all chat about the summer so far and what they are doing. Billy is vague. Steve is vague. Tommy is going to the University of Michigan in the fall so he has no reason to be vague.

Then Steve and Tommy get in the crowded pool. Tommy is all wired up. He seems pretty happy to be friendly again with both Steve and Billy. A couple other Hawkins High people show up and there’s a lot of horseplay. There’s too much horseplay. It’s the kind of horseplay Billy’s supposed to blow the whistle on because the guys are getting rowdy and splashing too much and way too boisterously and the little kids and old folks look cowed. Not that Billy particularly _cares_ about the little kids and old folks being cowed except he likes the job and he also doesn’t mind throwing around his authority.

But suddenly it doesn’t feel as if he’d be throwing around his authority. It feels much more like he’d be the huge dork lifeguard tut-tutting the cool people instead of himself being the cool people. It would look lame as hell and in front of Steve, who is partially involved in the horseplay but mostly seems irritated.

So Billy ignores the horseplay and it’s getting to be quite the clusterfuck; a whole group of teenage boys playing some game, hooting and shoved close together, splashing around. They’ve formed a circle. Billy can’t even see what’s going on. He doesn’t see Steve either.

Billy doesn’t know how much time is passing. Heather is talking to her friends in the corner.

Suddenly he hears Tommy say, “Shit, what the hell happened to Steve! Hey, Billy!”

Billy is already climbing down, mainly because Tommy shouted about Steve and sounded alarmed. 

“Get outta the way!” Billy bellows and the cluster of boys clear a path as Tommy and Joey Spencer are dragging Steve through the water. Steve is limp and his head is hanging. He must’ve gotten trapped under the water for too long in whatever dumb fuck game the guys were playing. Or maybe he freaked out under there. Since he’s started hanging out at the pool, Billy has seen Steve by turns swim around for never more than ten minutes or just stare down at the water like he’s afraid of it. Billy doesn’t know what that’s about and it makes no sense given the way Max talks about Steve like he’s a total badass.

“Outta the way! Outta the way!” He moves so fast, barking orders and shoving people out of his way as he moves Steve.

His training kicks in just like it’s supposed to and he immediately discovers that Steve is not breathing. That’s when his hands start to shake but he ignores that. Heather comes running over and Billy yells at her to call 911. He moves automatically, following all the steps he was taught a million times back when he did junior lifeguarding in California and then again when he had to take a refresher course in Hawkins to get recertified before they would hire him. 

Chest compressions. He finds the spot, clasps his hands, one and two...one and two...

If he had a second to think, which he’s certainly not going to do right now, he might register how white Steve is even though he’s looked nice and tan lately and how like a ragdoll he is as Billy tips his chin up, it’s almost like he’s already-

“ _Fuck_ you, Harrington, you better fucking…” 

Without hesitation, Billy leans over and covers Steve’s mouth with his own and breaths into Steve’s mouth twice, carefully like he was taught. This was not how he ever pictured Steve’s mouth pressed against his. He hears some brat say “ew” and get shushed. He watches for Steve’s chest to rise and...nothing.

Chest compressions.

Tip chin up. 

Breathe.

Breathe.

Nothing.

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fucking asshole_ -

Chest compressions.

Breathe.

_Fuck you_.

Breathe.

_Fuck you_.

Noth-

Steve gasps. Billy’s pretty sure his own heart stopped beating for the the minute or year or century during which he thought Steve Harrington was dying in front of his eyes. Steve breathes and coughs and people applaud or something which Billy wants to blow his whistle for because it annoys him that they all just gaped at the spectacle like the bunch of hick blockheads they are.

Steve is alive and breathing and his heart is beating and his lungs are working and he’s sitting up, looking animated. Color is returning to his cheeks. That’s good because Billy is losing his shit now, tears flooding his eyes and he hops to his feet and bolts to the men’s changing room without a word.

The ambulance is coming anyway. It’ll be here in half a second because Hawkins is minuscule. He’s supposed to tell the paramedics exactly what happened but the problem is he’s balling like a baby and he slams his fist into a locker, gathering himself by force. 

“Fffffuck pull it together, _shit_.”

Out of pure necessity, Billy manages to compose himself. He can always say his red eyes are from the pool even though...he hasn’t actually been in it today. He goes outside again just as the ambulance is arriving. He thought everyone would be looking at him funny, sure that his love for Steve Harrington has just been flashing in neon lights, but they’re all patting him on the back and telling him he saved Steve’s life and he’s a hero and Billy has an urge to scream at everyone that he beat the shit out of the guy once and this is only finally making up for that maybe.

He reports to the paramedics and Heather is writing everything down. He has to sign a thing for the Hawkins Recreational Center Incident Report that their supervisor will see when she comes in the next day. They handled it just how they were supposed to anyway.

He takes care of the paperwork, occasionally sniffing and rubbing his eyes but remaining as stoic as possible, his mouth a straight line, his brow furrowed. He can’t stop glancing over at Steve who is getting checked out at the ambulance, a towel around his shoulders as people hover around him, his eyes firmly trained on Billy.

He can’t handle that, the way Steve is staring at him almost like he knows what Billy is thinking or maybe he’s just impressed or something. Billy does everything he’s supposed to and feels like he deserves a break. The lifeguard for the late afternoon shift is coming in a second. Heather can handle this bullshit. He all but runs to the locker room and grabs his shit and goes to his car. The Camaro is an oven but it feels good right now; cleansing. The leather burns his thighs and his back as he sits there in his trunks, staring through his shades at the Hawkins Recreational Center parking lot. Steve’s BMW is parked directly in front of him, facing him, their bumpers kissing. Billy smokes. He shuts his eyes and tries to unclench and not think about how he thought he was watching Steve die. His dream. Not _just_ a dream. Billy might try to put Steve in his back pocket but he’s been watching the guy. A whole lot more people would come to Steve’s funeral than his. Steve may have lost his throne in senior year but now it doesn’t even matter that Steve wears that dopey adorable uniform and works at Scoops because everyone remembers him fondly. Everyone likes Steve. Max would lose her mind if Steve died, not to mention that kid with the moptop he’s always hanging around with.

Billy wipes his eyes again and sniffs. He’s not _sobbing_ but a few stubborn tears are escaping his eyes.

When he turns his head, he sees Steve coming. He’s wearing a t-shirt with his trunks now, his hair still dripping wet as he carries his gym bag on his shoulder, his eyes on Billy in the car. Billy looks away and tries to seem unapproachable.   
That doesn’t seem to be working with Steve lately.  
Steve stops and looks uncertain standing there, like he’s waiting for a bus and not sure it’s actually coming.

Billy sighs heavily and gets out, putting his aviators back on so Steve won’t see his red eyes.

“You okay, Harrington?”

Steve smiles softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Thanks to you. You saved my life. Wanted to say thanks? God, that sounds lame.” He scratches his chin and comes around to lean against a tree growing from a plot of dirt in the parking lot. Billy steps down into it to talk to him and in the shade Steve’s eyes seems softer as they gaze at him, his mouth too red. “That was awesome. I mean drowning wasn’t awesome, it was super embarrassing, but the part where you saved me was pretty cool.”

Billy stares at Steve. Billy gets praise on a regular basis and it feels okay but it’s meaningless one hundred percent of the time. But not this time.

“Lifeguard,” he says, shrugging, like it’s nothing. “Kinda the job.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. He looks down at the ground and seems to be thinking for a second before he looks up again and abruptly takes the aviators off Billy’s face.

“ _Hey_!” Billy protests.

“Are you okay?” Steve says. Which is a weird question since _Steve almost just died_.

“Yes! It’s the chlorine!” Billy blurts out. “Jesus, gimme those-”

“Chill, man, chill.” Steve says, way too calmly. He’s staring at Billy too hard. Like he’s trying to read his mind again. “Have you been crying?”

“ _Fuck_ you.”

“It’s just a question. I don’t mean-”

“Why’re you hassling me, Harrington? I just saved your ass from drowning! Why don’t you leave me the hell alone! Why don’t you-”

“I like you,” Steve says. 

It’s not a shout. His voice isn’t even very loud. But to Billy it’s a crack of thunder. 

“I like you,” he says again. “You hang out at Scoops all the time. Like all the time, man,” Steve says, chuckling softly. “You come so much, I know when you’re working because when you’re not working you’re with me. I thought you were trying to mess with me at first. I was pissed. Then I was just annoyed. Then I was confused. Then I realized how much fun it was to talk to you, to just… And then sometimes when you didn’t come, it drove me nuts like how _dare_ you not come to Scoops and hang out with me.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “So I had to come find you. Took me awhile to get up the nerve. And I didn’t even know, I couldn’t figure out why I had to see you so bad. Then one day goddamn Robin was like, so you know he’s gay and has a huge crush on you, right? And don’t worry like I don’t think anyone knows. Not really. And who gives a shit? We’ll deal. It doesn’t matter. None of that shit matters.” Steve is staring at him. Billy vaguely wonders if he’ll need CPR next because he can’t breathe because Steve is standing so close and smelling like Coppertone and looking beautiful and alive and is giving him the big speech about how he _likes_ Billy and Billy suddenly realizes that swim trunks don’t even have back pockets. “Because I like you,” Steve says again. “And I think you like me.”

“I...had a plan,” Billy mutters, and allows himself to stare at Steve’s pretty face all he wants; the three little moles on his cheek, the full red lips, the soft brown eyes. He did save Steve’s life after all. Maybe he deserves a treat. 

Steve takes two sizeable steps closer and now they’re nose to nose and they’re shielded enough from the rest of the parking lot, which is why, Billy supposes, Steve’s hands are slowly coming up to trace the backs of Billy’s and now sliding up his arms to wrap around his neck. “Tommy said you flipped the hell out when they pulled me out of the pool,” Steve whispers. “Said he’s never seen you like that.”

“I...Tommy’s full of it.” Billy dimly realizes he should not be arguing with this.

“Bunch of people said so,” Steve whispers against Billy’s lips. “Old Mrs. Pearson said so.”

“I had a plan,” Billy murmurs, his chest heaving. His lashes flutter when Steve’s lips brush his for just one moment.

“Am I your plan?” Steve says.

“Fuck no, you’re my dream,” Billy whispers, and cannot believe he just said that.

Billy hears Steve’s little surprised intake of breath at that before they kiss and Billy thinks he had no idea that stupid old Vaseline Chapstick is the best taste in the world, isn’t that weird? Because that’s what Steve tastes like as his mouth presses to Billy’s and slowly pulls away with a warm slide of their lips only to taste him again and again. He sucks on Billy’s bottom lip and licks at Billy’s tongue when it sneaks out before Billy growls a little under his breath and licks inside Steve’s mouth. Steve sounds a little whimper and his arms tighten around Billy’s neck, bringing him closer. At some point Billy grabbed Steve’s hips and he squeezes them now and wraps his arm around him like he’s imagined doing before the dreams turned X-rated. 

Steve kisses Billy for a long time and Billy forgets everything about everything. He forgets he’s outside and that boys kissing boys is at best frowned upon, especially in a place like Hawkins. For a moment he forgets every shitty thing that’s ever happened to him because Steve has his tan, toned arms wrapped around Billy’s neck and he’s twirling a greenish blonde curl around his finger.

“You’re off work now, right?” Steve says, his voice sex-soft. “Come hang out at my house.”

“Yeah, okay,” Billy mumbles and Steve smiles, giggling against Billy’s mouth.

“Cool! Let’s go!” Steve steps away and Billy lurches forward, leaning into him. 

They’re supposed to drive their own cars, he realizes. 

“I’ll leave my car here!” Billy declares. He’s breathless as he swings around the tree and leans in his window to grab his bag and his keys and his smokes. He doesn’t bother to roll up the window even though he’s leaving the car overnight because it’s Hawkins and there’s nothing else good in there anyway.

“Come on, come on,” he says, his eyes wide and dilated. He feels like if he lets Steve out of his sight, the dream will disappear. 

He tosses his bag in Steve’s backseat as he hops in, still only wearing his trunks and the Converse he stuffed on his feet in a rush as Steve peels out of the lot. Billy can’t stop staring at him, _won’t_ stop staring.

There is a strong possibility, he thinks, that he will get to see just exactly how Steve’s body moves under the ministrations of Billy’s tongue. The trick is not to look away. Keep Steve in his eyeline.

_I’m going to make you come_ , he thinks, staring at Steve. _I’m going to make you moan and scream my name_. And just as loudly he thinks _, I’m going to make you love me._

It’s a challenge in his head but then Steve glances at him, looking sort of amused and grabs his hand, holding it in his as he drives. Billy stares down at their clasped hands like it’s a third limb that’s just grown out of Steve.

_Maybe it won’t be that difficult_ , he thinks. 

He feels very stupid right now.

“You know what we need?” Steve says as they drive into Loch Nora.

Billy frowns, thinking hard, and his eyes light up when he says, “ _Lube_. And some booze.”

Steve snorts a laugh. He seems so amused by Billy at every turn. Billy was being dead serious. 

“That too,” Steve says, raising their hands and kissing Billy knuckles. “And a new plan.”

A new plan, Billy thinks. A new plan that involves his actual dream.

“Yeah alright, Harrington,” Billy says, grinning at sunny Hawkins out their windshield. “New plan.”


End file.
